


no defense (no preservation)

by emollience



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Exes, F/F, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 21:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emollience/pseuds/emollience
Summary: Adora sits as though unchanged, a snapshot back to simpler days but Catra can see even from her seat at the other end of the skiff that Adora is different than the girl who left. Someone no longer immutable. Someone angrier. The way Adora’s gaze meets Catra’s own like a challenge speaks volumes to the months apart.Catra no longer misses her.*a brief interlude in the journey from the crimson waste to the fright zone.





	no defense (no preservation)

**Author's Note:**

> there was originally supposed to be a plot and some character study in here but ive been awake over 36 hrs now so like. what can u do

“we inherit everything so nothing is your fault / but you take the fall anyway. no defense, no / preservation. raising your hands (or claws or / talons) has always been an act of violence. / something like the space between a clean / slaughterhouse and the killing floor.” 

— **allegory of nothing** ,_ [awfulmachinations](https://awfulmachinations.tumblr.com/post/165742621483/allegory-of-nothing)_

The ride to the Fright Zones stretches long. For her part Adora remains silent, no longer grunting and protesting against her binds. She sits calm at the center of the skiff, glaring out at the blur of red wasteland zooming past them. That barely held together facade of acceptance grates at Catra’s skin; leaves her itching for another fight, another body to knock around until her knuckles split and bled. 

The way Adora sits with her shoulders pulled back, spine solid straight, her chin raised and defiant even in the face of imminent death, her cheek purpling with the kiss of a bruise breathes so familiar a sight for a moment Catra almost forgets the rage simmering bone deep. The lines of Adora’s body are as familiar to Catra as her very shadow: the cutting line of her jaw; the elegant slope of her neck; the lithe curve of her waist fitted for Catra’s hands and Catra’s hands alone, emphasized by the belts tying her jacket together. She can chart them all by memory alone; can trace and define every inch of Adora even with her eyes shut. 

Adora sits as though unchanged, a snapshot back to simpler days but Catra can see even from her seat at the other end of the skiff that Adora is different than the girl who left. Someone no longer immutable. Someone angrier. The way Adora’s gaze meets Catra’s own like a challenge speaks volumes to the months apart. 

Catra no longer misses her. 

Kyle stops at some point in the night by a rock formation that loosely forms a series of caves. They settle in just fine, deep enough to avoid any unexpected visitors, but she sends Kyle and Scorpia out to stand guard anyways. She ignores the look Scorpia sends her way before stepping out, equal parts concern and resignation. With the lizard woman fast asleep by a wall, it’s only her and a still tied up Adora staring at each other from across the flickering fire.

Neither of them move. Neither of them look away. Adora’s eyes are blue-gray in the low light, dark and unknowable. 

“Nothing I say will convince you to stop, will it?” Adora says, not asks, her voice flat. 

“Ding, ding, genius. You finally got it.” Catra smiles. She runs a claw over the blade’s edge, watches as Adora tracks the movement before her eyes flicker back up to meet Catra’s. “I always knew you were more muscle than brain, but I never thought you were stupid, Adora. Becoming a princess really did a number on your brain cells.” 

“Can you be serious for once? This isn’t a joke.” 

“It never is, now. You used to have a sense of humor.” 

“You used to have a sense of morality,” snaps Adora. She flattens her mouth into a line. “I’m telling you that the world could end if you open that portal and you’re going to do it anyways. For what? Spite?” 

“It’s a war. It’s my _ job _.” 

“Right, because you’ve taken your position so seriously before.”

“You don’t know me anymore, Adora!” Her voice echoes. Catra stills, leaning forward, chest aching. The lizard woman does not stir. “You don’t know anything. And you don’t get to tell me what to do. You think I’m what? Going to roll over and do what you say when we’re on opposite sides of the war? You losing means_ I win _. I’m supposed to just believe whatever you say because —”

“Because I’m telling the truth.” 

“Right, sure,” she laughs. “The enemy telling the truth out of the goodness of her heart. I don’t give a shit.” 

Adora stares at her, brows furrowed. She lifts her chin, though her expression remains the same, serious in a way she never used to be in the Before, in a way that’s become familiar since she crossed enemy lines. “You used to.” 

Another laugh. Catra leans back against the wall. “Things change, princess.” 

“I don’t get it,” she continues as though Catra never spoke, and her gaze remains on her, resolute and heavier than anything Catra’s ever carried. “I do — I do everything I can to make things up to you. I beg you again, and again, and again to come with me so that we can be together, but you don’t. You don’t, and you hurt my friends, you hurt me, you infect me and you kidnap me, and now you’re going to do something so — so fucking _ stupid, _ but I’m the bad guy here.” Those perfect shoulders sag, no longer standard soldier straight. There’s another conversation happening here, buried under layers Catra can’t bother to rifle through. “You think I’m expecting you to roll over. What about you? Did you think I’d do that too? Just what the hell do you want —”

“Stop,” she manages. 

It’s too much to ask. “Maybe if you talked to me for once we wouldn’t be here —”

“I said stop!” Her voice fills the cave; echoes back at them. The lizard woman stirs, but doesn’t wake up. “Talking isn’t going to fix anything.” 

“I know that!”

“Then why bother bringing it up?”

“Because I want to get it. You keep saying I left you, but you left me too. At what point is it even between us?” When Catra scoffs, Adora struggles to her feet except she’s forced to bend her knees, her arms tied back and connected to stalagmite with rope. The fire’s light paints her face vivid orange. “Not going to answer me?”

She watches one of Adora’s knees tremble. “I don’t owe you anything,” says Catra. “Sit back down.” 

“Make me.” 

“What are you, five?” 

“If you’re going to act like a kid, then I might as well too.”

The sword clatters to the ground right as Catra shoves herself up. She crosses the space between them, and starts to adjust the rope, tugging Adora down even while Adora protests. “Shut. Up.” 

Adora slams into her, body sure and firm and familiar against her own. Catra stumbles back against the wall. This close, even with her arms tied back, Adora looms over her, eyes dark, pupils blown wide. “Make. Me.” 

Catra should shove her back. She should walk away. Adora is too close to her. Her head tips towards Catra’s and she can feel the heat of her breath. It would be so easy to let her body follow instinct, to lean in, to have Adora brand her with her touch like she has time and time before, to choose Adora, finally, like she always used to. In the low light of the cave she can admit what she wants, who she wants. 

It is not enough. 

She bares her fangs; doesn’t move towards or away, simply exists in the same space as Adora, aware of the warmth between them. “I told you,” she says, “you don’t get to boss me around.” She reaches up and tucks a stray lock of hair behind Adora’s ear. Catra caresses Adora’s cheek, brushes her fingers against the bare skin of her throat. She listens to Adora’s breath stutter, watches the swell of her chest heave. In the Before — before a sword, before a Force Captain badge, before everything — she rarely hesitated. She touched and let herself be touched; knew Adora as viscerally as Adora knew her. Now, Catra stands still and waits. Now, Catra feels that lick of anger, a more steady companion than Adora has ever been, remind her everyone has always chosen Adora and Adora has never chosen her. Now, Catra draws a claw over the turn of Adora’s jaw, down her neck, all the way to the dip of her throat and presses down, light as a feather. 

She tilts her chin up and whispers, “You aren’t exactly in a position to tell me what to do anymore.” She traces Adora’s collarbone through the fabric of her white Horde shirt. “It’s always, _ “you have to”, “you shouldn’t”, “you can’t” _ with you. Always orders and commands.” She leans in close, lips barely grazing Adora’s. “I’m tired of it.” 

The shudder of breath against Catra’s mouth is answer enough. Catra closes the gap between them. Angry and hard, entirely unlike the soft tentative brush of lips from their first kiss years ago, entirely unlike years of silly and chaste glances off the mouth or hidden kisses in spots around the Fright Zone. They kiss each other as if trying to hurt one another, Catra’s hands digging into Adora’s waist, Adora’s teeth catching on her lips. They kiss each other like the crackle of dark magic, like they’ve spent too long fighting the thought of it, a culmination of too many nights clinging to each other only to be torn apart. 

Adora pushes her back against the wall, sharp stone digging into her spine and shoulders. Catra can feel the way she struggles against the rope and she slides her hands down her arms to her elbows and grips her hard, holding her still. Adora groans; bites at Catra’s lip hard enough to draw blood and pulls away, eyes narrowed and panting. 

“I’m tired,” says Adora, “of being angry with you.” 

Catra holds a hand to Adora’s cheek. Her thumb smooths over the pale skin. She smiles, all teeth. “Not like you have much time left to be anyways.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @pefruma on both tumblr and twitter come cry w me over s3


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